


Come Find Me (I Will Be Disappointing)

by sapphire2309



Series: White Collar 100 Fills [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2224467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/pseuds/sapphire2309
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal finds it hard to believe that he's interesting by himself, without the facade. Peter begs to differ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Find Me (I Will Be Disappointing)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Save Me by Seahaven.
> 
> This drabble series fills 8 prompts from whitecollar100 (lj)
> 
> Prompts filled, in order of appearance, are #183 - Follow, #148 - Soft, #111 - Scowl, #120 - Sing, #113 - Yawn, #134 - Bent, #185 - Drift and #169 - Erase.

Neal's noticed recently that Peter looks at him a lot. Not any of the obvious culprits (like the curvature of his butt) but seemingly irrelevant things (like the dot of mayonnaise at the corner of his mouth).

Right now, Peter's eyes are fixed on his hand. His hand is curved around a wine glass, the fingers shifting under the scrutiny.

"What _are_ you doing, Peter?"

Peter's eyes dart to his face. "Looking for you."

The corner of Neal's mouth twists into a grimace. "You'll be disappointed. There's nothing to find."

"There's always something."

The wine beckons to Neal. He follows.

 

\- Earlier That Day -

 

There were two cups of coffee on Peter's desk - one full, one down to dregs - by the time Neal set foot into his office.

"You were late this morning," Peter said.

"You wanted a forgery, on a _very_ tight deadline." Neal sat down. "Paint takes time to dry." He didn't reach for the coffee cup immediately.

Peter leaned forward, suspicious.

Neal looked... soft, like he knew what was going on, but didn't have the necessary energy to care about it.

He was exhausted, Peter realized. His mouth quirked upwards into a smile. Neal had his human moments too.

 

-:-

 

Peter stopped right before he entered Neal's field of vision. He couldn't believe it.

Neal was singing.

And it was beautiful.

He listened as Neal took a song that was ridiculously cheerful and lingered over the words, made them wistful, gave them a texture that they didn't have before.

Peter listened and wondered what Neal thought of, what he felt as he molded the lyrics into a form that they didn't have before.

It felt rude to eavesdrop like this. Neal was pouring himself into something that clearly wasn't meant to be heard by anyone else.

But he listened anyway.

 

-:-

  
Peter had no reasonable explanation as to why he was letting Diana toy with an already exhausted Neal Caffrey.

He was a decent person. No, really.

"Your hat's crooked," Diana noted as she walked into the conference room.

Neal scowled and straightened it automatically.

"Also, there's paint in your hair."

Neal looked up, alarmed. His hand darted to his hair, knocking the fedora to the ground, felt around a little, and found no dried paint.

Peter grinned. Neal Caffrey off his game was a rare sight.

Neal scowled deeper and threw a glare in Diana's general direction.

Peter kept grinning.

 

-:-

  
Neal snapped the file shut and leaned back in his chair

They were working a case that nothing relevant could make interesting. Until Jones chose an extremely unfortunate moment to look up.

Neal faked a wide yawn and made sure to bring his hand to his mouth just a few seconds too late. He grinned as Jones set off yawns across the entire conference room, and grinned wider at the groans.

"It was Caffrey!" Jones insisted.

"Who, me?" Neal smoothed his tie with a light grin.

He didn't notice Peter standing to his right, just out of sight, laughing silently.

 

-:-

  
Just as Peter was about to tell everyone to take five, Neal sat up straighter, suddenly alert. He snatched a file out from under Diana's elbow without so much as a by-your-leave and set it down next to the one he was reading, his eyes darting back and forth between them.

And then he smiled. Wide, excited, because his usually loathed criminal bent had brought out a workable angle that no one else could or would have thought of.

Neal took the floor with a relieved smile, brilliant ideas bursting out of him a dime a dozen.

Peter let him.

 

-:-

  
The case had been neatly tied up with a little bow on top, thanks to Neal.

It was Friday. There were vague plans to go out for drinks, celebrate the coming weekend. Neal sensed that they might become definite.

Before they could, Neal drifted to the edge of the group without capturing anyone's attention, and left.

If Peter hadn't been watching Neal from the office, he wouldn't have noticed Neal leaving. How easily, how gently Neal could disappear.

He made up his mind to drop by Neal's house with a six pack of beer and a cheap bottle of wine.

 

\- Now -

  
Neal swallows the rest of his wine and pretends that he didn’t hear

"There's always something," Peter repeats. "There are so many things about you that I know, and there's about as many that I don't."

Neal laughs wearily. "How do you know it's not a lie?"

"I don't. Which makes it more interesting."

Neal shakes his head slowly.

Peter sighs. All he wants to do is erase the ridiculous notion that Neal isn’t brilliant.

He tries again. "I can make a list, if you like.”

Neal looks up. His jaw shifts anxiously. "Really?"

 _"Yes."_

"Okay." He swallows. "I'll listen."

**Author's Note:**

> The song I hear Neal singing is 500 Miles by The Proclaimers, the way Sleeping At Last covered it. ([linky to the cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJ6wJqaE6o4)) If you've heard the original, you know that it's almost painfully annoying, so I'm not linking to it :P.


End file.
